Juniper Reguba: Daughter of Warriors
by renaissancegirl23
Summary: Juniper: granddaughter of Song and Dann. She's a vicious, blunt, deadly squirrel ready to go on a quest to avenge her parents and to find Martin's sword. T just to be safe. Please R&R!
1. A strange visitor

Juniper peered through the leaves of the great oak in which she was standing, gazing attentively down at the three vermin. She scarcely breathed as she pulled her arrow to her bow and pulled back the string, picking her target. Should she shoot the fat stoat or the bossy rat? Which deserved to die first?

"Don't worry about any of those woodland creatures trying to ambush us; those squirrels especially. What a bunch of acorn-obsessed treejumpers!" That sealed the stoat's fate as the arrow came whizzing down through the tree canopy, and the other two rogues' lives ended almost as quickly as they fell before they could think of any defense.

Juniper skimmed down the tree trunk and immediately went to the haversacks that the rodents had been carrying. She rummaged through the sacks, and quickly found what was probably the stolen provisions of woodlanders. She sat down and munched an apple and oat farl hungrily, as she hadn't eaten in nearly a day.

After she finished her meal, she examined the dead vermin, to see if there was any object worth taking; gold, or weapons, or anything of value. Juniper sighed in frustration, as the search was fruitless, then kicked the carcasses underneath some shrubbery. The squirrel then straightened her light green jerkin and climbed out of the woodlands and up to the main path. She strolled quickly along, watching the enormous red abbey loom larger and larger on the horizon. This was her destination.

Juniper pounded her fist three times on the abbey door, and waited until it was opened. A rather round, aging shrew poked his head out and looked up at the visitor. "Good evening to ye, miss. What brings you to Redwall Abbey?"

"I have business with your abbess," Juniper stated flatly, not bothering for unnecessary chi-chat. "I have a message of the death of someone close to her."

The gatekeeper shrew seemed a bit taken aback, then nodded and opened the door for the squirrel maid to enter. Juniper walked past her greeter and across the lawns of the abbey. She cautiously eyed everything, suspecting every beast, in the way that she had learned as a young one. Dibbuns played happily by the pond as their overseers laughed at their antics. Relaxed adult mice, otters, squirrels, hedgehogs, voles, and beasts of other kinds strolled here and there happily. One of them, a young hog maid, approached Juniper.

"Hello there, traveler," she said, "and just who might you be?"

Juniper cast a wary eye over the inquirer. "My name is not important at this time." She spoke with a low growl in her voice. "I have business with your abbess."

"Abbess Song? Well then, I shall take you to her. Please, follow me." The hog maid, now slightly disturbed by the odd squirrel, turned and walked into the abbey building. She led the guest through the Great Hall, past the dormitories, and into a small room. Juniper surveyed her surroundings: a slightly musty room filled with old furniture and bookcases filled with old volumes. The hog gave a slight curtsy to a small group of creatures: two elderly squirrels, a hare, and a mouse.

"Evenin', Abbess," the hog maid said. "This young squirrel here is a visitor, and she said that she had some business with you."

"Thank you, Pipsey," said the elderly female squirrel. She looked past the round hog at the squirrel in the mud-spattered fur and torn cloak. The squirrel seemed so out of place, so uncomfortable, so tight and withdrawn.

"Could everyone please leave me with this visitor for a few moments, please? Dann, please remain here." The other creatures did to their abbess's bidding, and closed the door behind them. Outside, they conversed in hushed tones.

"She was rather rude," Pipsey informed them.

"Sticks out like a sore thumb," the mouse said. "It looks like the poor thing's been traveling for years."

Inside the room, the young squirrel addressed the old pair. "My name is Juniper Reguba," she began, noticing the shock on the two's faces. "I come from northern Mossflower, though I believe I was born here, according to my parents. My father was your son, Glendor Reguba, and his wife was Tolia Silverbranch, one of the wandering whites. I have come here to inform you that last season, they and nearly half my clan were killed by vermin." The squirrel looked at the two, who were now shaking and tears were falling down their faces.

"Now that I've told you my news, I guess I shall leave now," Juniper said, but Songbreeze jumped up and held her grimy paws, wincing slightly at how cut and rough they felt.

"That is nonsense, dear Juniper," she gushed. "Why, we haven't seen you in many seasons; we thought you'd never return."

"I must leave soon," Juniper informed them. "I accomplish nothing staying in this building."

"Juniper," Dann said, placing a paw on his granddaughter's shoulder, "please, stay. We need to catch up on what we've missed out on."

Juniper pulled away from the pair. "I have vowed to spend my life killing off vermin, one by one if necessary," she declared. "Just today, I killed three not an hour's march from your building."

"Vermin!" they both exclaimed.

"There's no need for alarm; they were stupid, lighting a fire and attracting the sight of anything that passed. I've seen their kind before: either deserters of an army, a small band of thieves, or just lost. Their kind isn't a threat." Juniper's knowledge of vermin was endless, as it had been honed after numerous fights and scrapes with them.

"But, dear, granddaughter," Song protested, "please, at least stay a night. Let us provide you with food and a place to sleep."

"I have never slept under a roof," she disclosed, "and I don't intend on starting now. I just wanted to let you know of your son's death. Also, you may want to know that I wasn't Glendor's only offspring. I have a brother many seasons older than I, known as Birchbark. Perhaps he will come some day." Juniper's stomach growled, reminding her that it was empty, as it usually was.

"You are staying with us, young lady," Song ordered, noticing that a festering sore on her left leg. "We shall give you food, and fresh clothes, and treatment for whatever injuries you may have. Now, that is a command, and I shall see to it that it is taken out." The abbess opened the door, revealing the creatures she had ordered to leave a little while earlier. They had obviously been eavesdropping, as they now wandered about, muttering excuses and pretending to act casual.

"Deesum," Song instructed rather frostily, "take miss Juniper down to the infirmary and tell Nettlebud to treat her immediately. Pipsey, go along and help your mother. This squirrel is a guest of honor, and should be treated as such."


	2. A past revealed

Song stood outside the infirmary, listening with worry to the clangs and crashes within. Poor Sister Neetlebud, having to deal with that squirrel. Still, the abbess's heart leaped with joy at the thought of her granddaughter, Juniper Reguba, alive and safe at Redwall. Ah yes, she could recall that night, when Glendor came to the abbey. It was a rainy, stormy, howling night, a night in which she, like the skies above, wept.

"_Mother, I am sorry that I must bring ill news to you at a time when we should be happy." The tall, strong squirrel in the mended tunic stood solemnly at his mother's abbess chair. His usual shining face now bear a look of grief and tragedy._

"_Glendor, please, what is it?" Her heart raced. Surely, it wasn't the baby…_

"_Last week, vermin came to the camp. They killed many, and in the melee, we lost track of Juniper. We searched and searched for her, but we could never find her. We are afraid she was kidnapped by the vermin band. That is the best we can hope for."_

"Abbess, marm? What's the trouble?" Neetlebud's small, round face peeked out through the infirmary doorway. "If you mind, marm, could you lend a paw in 'ere? Yore wand'ring friend is puttin' up quite a fuss."

Song managed a smile and stepped inside. She had to stifle a chuckle at the huffy young squirrel covered in sticky herb poultices and ripped bandages.

"Juniper, what is the matter?"

The addressee's eyes were dark as she snapped, "That hog isn't going to touch me."

Song placed a loving paw on her granddaughter's arm. "Dear, we do not mean to harm you; please, would you allow me to dress your wounds?"

Juniper relented, and Song tenderly started to wrap the various cuts and festers the squirrel wore. "That hog didn't even ask if she could; went at me like an overwrought hogmum," Juniper grumbled.

By dinnertime, the entire abbey had heard of the squirrel that had arrived. Dobbin, the gatekeeper, had first spread the word, and then gossipy Pispsey and her friends, Hoffington "Hoffy" Longlegg and the mouse maid Sareen, had exaggerated and bent the story to their liking.

"Came in like a blinkin' roarin' storm, throwin' tables and chairs, screamin' like a madbeast!" Hoffy took secret pleasure at the way the eyes of the Dibbuns in front of him grew as large as dinner plates.

"I heard her claim she's a descendant of Martin the Warrior," Pipsey whispered to a group of elderly female mice.

"She demanded us all leave the room, save the abbess and Brother Dann. Goodness knows what she's been doin' to them. Suppose she's an evil creature and wants a ransom for them?" Sareen by far had the greatest imagination. However, she was reprimanded by Foremole Prum.

"Burr, shame's on youse, missy!" he scolded. "Makin' such loies 'bout a pore creature, probably just lost 'er way and needs doirections."

All creatures in Cavern Hole lapsed into silence as Song and Dann came forth, with Juniper in front of them. Neetlebud hastily came up behind, calling to all the Redwallers, "Don't stand there with yore jaws a-gapin'; welcome our visitor!"

Neetlebud's remark broke the ice as the servers brought food to the tables and the others sat at the tables, with the closest to their abbess questioning she and her husband about the new squirrel.

"What's her name?" "Where is she from?" "Has she been here before?" And, of course, not really a question, but, "She looks starved; eat all you want, young one!"

Juniper remained quiet as Song criticized the inquirers.

"Quiet, all of you! Let her have a mouthful before you expect her to answer your questions. Not to offend anyone, but this is a special guest of Dann's and mine, and we would appreciate her telling us everything before we tell you."

That ended the discussion about the visitor. The other creatures resumed talking about other things: the food, the weather, the day's happenings. Yet, they still all desperately wanted to know about the wanderer, after all they had heard from Pipsey, Hoffy, and Sareen.

Juniper mainly loaded her plate with simple bread, raw fruit, and cheese, and filled her beaker with October Ale. Dann nudged Song, nodding at the simple spread their granddaughter ate, and Dann offered her a strawberry trifle.

"Dear, you are amidst some of the best cooks in the land. Would you be interested in trying some of the fancier dishes?"

Juniper eyed the desert, hesitating at the fact of never eating anything fancier than a blackberry tart in her life. She finally accepted the dessert from her grandfather, and took a large bite. Her eyes swelled as she coughed and wheezed, spitting the food into a napkin.

"Too…sweeeet," she gasped. She grabbed a nearby pitcher of water and took great gulps from it. She finally came back to a normal state, and appeared sheepish.

"I'm sorry. I just, well, I've lived on plain food all my life, and that was quite different from anything I've ever eaten."

"No need to be sorry, dear," Song consoled to her. "Every beast has their own tastes. Have all the breads and fruit and cheese you like."

Later that night, Dann and Song took Juniper to their small dormitory, posting old Sister Sloey as a guard, telling her to shoo off anyone who appeared to loiter around their doors. The old mouse Sloey was nearly completely deaf anyways, so she wouldn't be able to hear the confidential information that would be told within.

Juniper and Dan sat on small armchairs next to a fireplace and Juniper perched on the bed. The elderly couple waited for a few minutes, thinking of the best way to start.

"Juniper," Dann finally began, "we haven't seen you in such a long time. We were quite shocked when we first saw you, but please know that we are so glad that you are home. We only had you for a season after you were born, and then your parents took you back to be with your mother's clan. We didn't see any trace of your parents or you until your father came to us late one night. He said that his camp had been invaded and, you-"

"-had been kidnapped by vermin," Juniper finished in a whisper. "Yes, I was kidnapped. Those foul, treacherous, terrible vermin took me when I was young, but I already had a sharp mind. They took me over many miles, needing me to scale trees for them to gather bird eggs and acorns and such, and had me cook. Eventually, a few seasons later, I had finished fashioning a sharp stick that I hid under my jerkin and worked on at night. I severed the rope that bound me to their grimy paws, and slew all of them." She slowly raised her paws, indicating the permanent rope marks at her wrists.

"How terrible," Song murmured.

"Anyway," Juniper continued, "I realized I had to go back to my family. My father, Glendor, had always wanted to live in the Abbey, and have a solid life. But my mother was of a different line of squirrels. The Wandering Whites, as you probably know, are squirrels of the north whose fir is light gray and white and mottled with other colors. As you can see, I took after my father, and my brother, Birchbark, took quite after my mother. Anyway, the Wandering Whites do not stay in one place too long. I had been taken quite a ways south, away from my family's northlands. It took me two seasons before I found them, and they were quite overjoyed to see me.

"By that time, my brother had rejoined my clan, and my father had planned on coming to Redwall. The entire band was persuaded to travel south, and we were on our way here when we were attacked. Our warriors fought fiercely, as did I, but I was knocked senseless. When I awoke, the forest floor around me was covered in the corpses of squirrels, all skinned-"

"Skinned!" cried Song, alarmed.

"Yes, marm," Juniper explained, her voice growling. "The skins of the Wandering Whites are highly valued throughout the vermin world. Anyway, I found my parents and nearly all my family and friends dead. My brother and a few others had probably fled when they found the battle lost. I decided to continue on my father's quest, and now, here I am."

The two squirrels' faces were lined with rivulets of tears, imaging their brave son and his beautiful wife dead and skinned in the desolate forest without a proper burial.

"How long ago did they die, Juniper?" Dann asked, wiping his eyes.

"About a month." She was quiet, and her eyelids began to droop. "I am sorry for saying so at a time like this, but, could I possibly find a place to sleep? I mean, I usually sleep outside, and that is where I shall sleep. I am much more comfortable out of doors than in them."

Dann and Song leaped to her wish, ushering her out of the abbey and to the orchard to the softest patch of grass in the whole lawn. Perhaps they had lost their son, but they would treat his daughter as a memorial to him. Dann and Song stayed by her as though she was a babe, and the three watched the night sky.

Song reached into the back of her mind and found a lullaby she had sung to Glendor, but not her two other offspring. Somehow, it suited Glendor more, and now, it felt natural to sing it to Juniper.

"The day, the night, both guided by light,

The moon, stars and sun, all take their run.

Who can catch them, who can tame them?

No beast, my dear, no beast, my dear.

"The seasons, the time, they pass on by,

We watch them fade, watch them run away.

Who can see them, who can touch them?

No beast, my dear, no beast, my dear.

"Now, you ask, what is my task?

Shall I stay here, shall I walk far and near?

Who can answer, who knows for sure?

No beast, my dear, no beast, my dear."

Juniper's soft voice joined Song's on the last line, as she remembered her father's kind face, singing sweetly to her. A single tear arose from Juniper's closed eyes, slid down her cheek, and into the soft ground.


	3. A vision

Juniper rose when dawn's first rays of light illuminated the eastern sky. She has witness many sunsets and sunrises in her time, but none quite like this. She had scaled the outer wall and now sat on a battlement, watching the masterpiece, a swirl of cream, crimson, gold, lilac, cerulean, and orange. Little in the world made the squirrel maid happy, but this was one of those rare occurrences when a small smile could be seen on her face.

"Juniper?" The squirrel jumped down from where she as sitting and replaced her smile with her usual grim posture. Song now stood in front of her, a cloak over her dark brown habit.

"Aren't you chilly? It's almost winter."

"Living in the northlands made my blood thick, marm," Juniper answered coldly. "Is there something you wanted to tell me?"

"Er, yes. Juniper, dear, I think that you should be introduced to the abbey."

"Marm, I planned on leaving this morning. I don't want any attention. Please, just let me be."

Abbess Song sadly gazed at her granddaughter. Squirrel maids were supposed to be happy and carefree, but this one bore the memories and worries that few creatures possessed.

"Very well." Song was forced to relent to the young, tough squirrel. She was a wild thing, too wild for the walls of the abbey. She walked away from her granddaughter, down the stairs, and back to the abbey, where breakfast would soon be served. Juniper returned her attention to the ever-broadening sunrise, reveling in its silent glory.

Suddenly, in the mixture of color, an image started to form. Juniper squinted, sure that her eyes were playing tricks on her, but, yes, there was an image of a, what was it? A mouse, clad in battle armor, carrying the greatest sword Juniper had ever seen, stood, his left paw outstretched in greeting. Juniper gazed at the figure, and soon, he began to speak, his words etching themselves into Juniper's head.

"Seek the tale of those before,

Who battled those who vanished.

Follow the path of your loving sire,

Who he his own self banished.

Weary wanderer, travel not alone,

Find the one who wields my sword.

Recover it quickly, befriend the lost,

So he may return and become his home's lord."

The image then faded, and the sunrise was replaced by the light blue morning sky, with the yellow sun shining above. Juniper dashed from the outer wall to the abbey, needing to find out what the words meant.

Juniper hurried through the abbey, avoiding all beasts, knowing the more quickly she came to her grandparents, the better. However, on her quest, she slowed to a stop and stared in awe. She stood in a long hall, and on one wall, a great tapestry hung. In the middle was the exact same mouse who had appeared in the sunrise, leaning on that fantastic sword and smiling bravely. Juniper noticed a female squirrel passing by at that moment, and called out to her.

"Excuse me, marm, but who is that mouse?"

The squirrel looked at Juniper, the tapestry, and Juniper again. "That is Martin the Warrior, the first Champion of Redwall Abbey." The squirrel gazed at Juniper and smiled.

"You look exactly like your father," she whispered, walking up next to her. "Oh, don't looked so shocked; I know Glendor's daughter when I see her. Mother and Father haven't introduced me to you yet, but I know you're Juniper. My name is Hollyhock, your younger aunt."

Juniper bowed slightly. "It's good to meet you, er, Aunt Hollyhock."

"Please, just Hollyhock. Do you wish to see your grandparents?"

"Yes, please." Juniper felt as though she had known the squirrel for years, and told her all about her vision of Martin.

"The spirit of Martin is to be respected and acknowledged, Juniper," Hollyhock mused. "We must tell the Abbess at once!"

Juniper, Hollyhock, Song, and Dann sat in the Abbess's study, the same room where Juniper had met her grandparents the night before. Juniper had repeated to them what Martin had told her, and Song and Dann were now somber, knowing that they would have to tell the heartrending story of their son.

"Well, in the riddle Martin spoke," Dann began, "'your loving sire' is obviously Glendor. For a long time, he was the Warrior of Redwall, taking the position after me. But for a very long time, the abbey was peaceful, and the Sword of Martin was not used. Glendor became restless, and decided to take the sword from the abbey. He told us that he was leaving, to look for vermin elsewhere, so that he could be of some use. We obviously did not want him to leave, but he went regardless.

"Now, that explains the 'banished part'. 'Battled those who vanished' is probably, well, Song, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yes," his wife answered. She explained to Juniper, "A long time ago, when your grandfather and I were young, there was a race of fox known as 'Marlfoxes'. They tried to invade the abbey, and even stole the tapestry, but we defeated them in the end. There's quite an adventure to tell, but that is for some other time. Anyway, Marlfoxes had coats that could make them 'vanish', blend into the background. That is what the 'battled those who vanished' part is about."

"Father did carry a sword for a long time, I remember," Juniper murmured. "I do remember the weapon. I didn't know it was a precious heirloom."

"And what happened to the sword, Juniper?" Song asked, her voice edged with eagerness.

"I am not sure. After I was knocked senseless, I never saw the sword again. The vermin must have taken it."

"Terrible to imagine Martin's sword in the paws of vermin!" Hollyhock exclaimed, her voice bitter.

"I imagine, then, that it is my quest to find it?" Juniper asked.

"Martin's words have always been followed, and with profound results," Dann said. "Oh, I'd murder the scum who took my son's life and his weapon. But, dear Juniper, you are much younger and better suited to such a task. We will give you anything you need for your journey."

"But, Martin said she wouldn't travel alone," Hollyhock pointed out. "Who will go with her?"

No beast spoke. Who was to go with Juniper, on her quest to retrieve Martin's sword?


	4. Vandar

The great fox stood at the edge of the cliff, gazing at the horizon beyond. He and his crew had been camped here at the shore for nearly a season, and Vandar was growing restless. He twirled the great sword in his hand, thinking back to the day he claimed the weapon. Those stupid squirrels, trying to fight against his vermin horde. Hah! The ones that fled were the smart, if cowardly, ones. But, they would be caught up to one day, and they all eventually would be slain.

Vandar turned from the cliff edge and walked back to camp, pulling his white-furred cloak around him. Everyday it became chillier; winter was definitely on its way. And, even though he knew his horde would hate it, he planned traveling to the northlands. The Wandering Whites were in their element in the winter, and they would be easy to find and kill. After all, Vandar's cloak was becoming rather worn and would need to be replaced.

"Wenva!" yelled the fox. "Tell the crew that we break camp tonight; we are heading north first thing in the morning."

"Very well, sire." The elderly female rat bowed and kept out of her master's way. She had only become this old because she feared her master, and was very valuable as a Seer to him. Wenva had found Vandar as a kit, and she had raised him. She was the one who decided he must have been the lost offspring of the Marlfoxes, whose race was now gone. There was no proof at all that this was true, but, for the sake of fear and splendor, it was proclaimed throughout the land.

Wenva scurried about the camp, relaying the fox's order. The face of every vermin was crestfallen, but they refrained from speaking their minds in front of the Seer. Another reason Wenva was so old was that she was the perfect sneak, knowing what and when to report to her lord of the remarks or actions of the horde beasts. No vermin spoke until they knew Wenva was beyond ear-shot, then they whispered in small groups.

"Trudgin' to the northlands in winter!" griped a rat named Grimpaw.

"Rubbish of an idea," commented another rat, Dret.

"We'll all freeze to death, save Vandar, of course; huh, he's got so many of them squirrel pelts, it's ridulous!" This was the statement of a ferret, Copple.

"Don't worry, good creatures, someday the pelts will be shared." The two rats and the ferret turned and froze in fear at the sight of Vandar, grinning evilly, standing right in front of them.

"Perhaps you will keep warm if you stop standin' around, gossipin' like a pack of old female pigeons, and started helpin' your mates break camp!" He strode off away from them, sad to leave their hilarious terror-stricken faces. But, he had other things to do. He was hardly angry at the vermin he had just reprimanded; chances were every beast in his horde had the same feelings. However, a good jolt of terror every once in a while always helped him keep his authority.

Vandar strode into his tent and sat upon his bed. It was an old badger pelt stuffed with moss and loam; a very comfortable resting place. He placed the sword by his side and lay back onto the mattress, staring at the very special pelt that hung on the tent wall in front of him. It was just a plain, grayish-brown squirrel pelt, not as nearly appealing as some of the finest white squirrel furs he owned, but this pelt was different. The skin came from the squirrel that had originally wielded the sword that Vandar now possessed. That battle had been a few seasons back, but the memory was still fresh in the fox's mind. He remembered the squirrel: fierce, tall, lean, but yet, vulnerable. He clasped the paw of a female Wandering White, and he was calling the name of another as he slashed down at vermin. In his eyes was a sign of worry, of panic, and he was too distracted to see Vandar in the shadows, too distracted to dodge the arrow that found its way to the squirrel's heart. Vandar immediately raced over and claimed the sword, and brought down the female whose paw still clasped that of the dead squirrel. Other squirrels raced off through the forest, and the vermin celebrated their victory.

Vandar pulled his fur cloak around him, and settled into sleep. His mind was dark and cloudy, a space absent of time or reason. But then, there was a sound. The tolling of bells, steady, and faint at first, but increasing in volume until it rang throughout his mind. And then, through the mist, came the image of a female squirrel, her eyes orbs of fiery iron, with a red aura surrounding her. From a sheath on her back, she drew the sword that Vandar had stolen. She held it above her head, and from behind, legions upon legions of white squirrels came forth, yelling, all armed with slings or blades of some sort. The lead squirrel spoke:

"The spirit of those who fell to your greed will haunt you for all eternity."

Vandar woke, shaking. The sword still lay beside him, the pelt still hung on the wall. There was a different air about it though. Instead of feeling pride in possessing it, Vandar felt remorse and distress. He walked from his tent, not wanting to look at that skin, and quickly put on a false composure as Wenva came up to him.

"Sire, all are doing as you bade," she announced.

Vandar nodded. "Good. We shall leave at dawn." Though now, he wasn't as confident about traveling to the northlands as he previously had been.


	5. A simple trick

"Juniper, dear, this is your older aunt, Poppleleaf." Song stood by Juniper's side as the tall squirrel opposite of her made a polite curtsy.

"Oh, goodness, she's such a wild-looking young thing," gushed Poppleleaf. "My, my, and the look of a hardened warrior is upon her. Naughty little thing, going about and pretending to go after vermin. Ho ho, you have quite a little imagination, you little rough and tumble…"

"I am not an imaginative little babe," Juniper corrected, her voice fierce. "Scores of vermin have fallen by my paw."

Poppleleaf pretended not to hear. She whispered, she thought, to Song, though Juniper could hear, "Silly little thing, toting around a quiver and bow. Funny thing, ain't she?"

"Er, Poppleleaf, please, Juniper isn't a 'silly little thing' as you call her."  
"Nonsense, Mother. Now, squirrel maids are all sweet and delicate, except your aunt Hollyhock, of course, Juniper. You just look like a dibbun who's in need of a good scrubbing!"

Juniper frowned and quickly strolled away. There was a thought in her mind that perhaps this was impolite, but she was raised on no-nonsense ways, not politeness.

Dann and Hollyhock had witnessed the event, and the female laughed. "Seems Juniper has met Poppy, the poor thing."

"Oh, your sister's not that bad, Hollyhock," Dann protested. "But still, I can't really see them becoming the best of friends."

Father and daughter chuckled, then Hollyhock rose and followed Juniper. The young squirrel was quickly striding out of the abbey, and Hollyhock followed, keeping up with the speed of her junior. Juniper eventually stopped by the abbey pond, and frowned at Hollyhock.

"When I met you, I assumed that you, like my father, were noble and practical," Juniper remarked. "I see that not all my relatives have inherited those traits."

"You must excuse Poppleleaf," Hollyhock said. "She is just different from Glendor and me. Just try to ignore her when she says that little stuff about you. She's not quite used to the idea of young ones fighting."

Juniper grumbled something unintelligible and stared at the flat surface of the abbey pond. Soon, however, it would be disrupted. Hordes, it seemed, of dibbuns were running Juniper's way, with all aiming to jump into the pond. Hollyhock, however, wouldn't hear of it.

"It's freezing out here, little ones!" she declared, holding them back with her paws. "You are not allowed to go into the pond!"

"But we wants to!" whined a little mouse babe, Dweemo.

"Burr, we's be hot!" stated Posie, a mole.

"We ottas gots to swim!" cried Toolie, the daughter of Rewall's Skipper.

Juniper could tell that the little ones were about to overpower her aunt, and she decided that, just maybe, for Hollyhock's sake, she could do what she really, truly detested.

"Hey, you little ones!" she exclaimed rather brusquely. All the little heads of the dibbuns turned and all the little eyes stared at Juniper.

"You may not know me, but I'm Juniper, and I've got a deal for you. If you stay out of the pond, I'll show you a trick."

It worked. All the babes clambered about Juniper, demanding to know the trick, their plans of swimming now vanquished. Juniper was not used to little ones, and her speech with them was rather rough.

"Sit down or I'll gut ye!" she shouted. Immediately, they sat down, and more than one began to sniffle at the outburst. Hollyhock hurried to defend her niece.

"Little ones, Juniper isn't used to being around those of your age, and she means no harm. I'm sure she would love to show you the trick." She turned away from the audience. "And just what is this trick?" she whispered.

"Get me a rag, a little oil, and a lit candle."

Soon, after the supplies were gathered, a crowd of older abbey beasts had gathered to see what had attracted all the dibbuns. Juniper set the candle that Hollyhock had brought her upon a pile of logs a ways from the pond. She then walked away from the candle, binding an arrow with the rag as she did so. She was now quite a distance from the pond, with the candle in the middle. As Juniper dipped the rag-bound arrow tip in the oil, Hollyhock made the proper warning.

"All beasts need to stay out of Juniper's path. Stand clear to the sides, and do not move until I say so!"

_Oh wonderful, the entire abbey knows my name now,_ Juniper thought as she notched the arrow. She pulled the string back, aimed down the shaft, and let fly. In a blink of an eye, the arrow flew down to the candle's flame, igniting at once, and then gradually was pulled to the ground, and being extinguished in the pond. All the beasts cheered, though at what Juniper did not know. The "trick" had been a simple training technique instilled by her father, many seasons ago.

The older ones departed, but the dibbuns gathered around in awe.

"Amazing, Juniper!" cried Dweemo.

"Vewy good," said Toolie.

"Well, young ones, let this be noted. If you venture into the water before your elders say you may, you shall go up in flames, since that arrow is still blazing down there, and will not go out until when warm weather comes again." Juniper delivered her warning with such a straight face that every little one believed her, and all their plans of further swims in the pond were dashed.


	6. Meet Skipper

Sorry it took so long to get this up; school's started and I've been really busy, and I had to come up with some new ideas. Anyway, I hope you like it. (I don't own Redwall!)

Juniper paced the abbey floor, anxious about staying in one place for so long. When would the storm be over with? Yes, she found satisfaction in staying dry and warm when usually during a thundershower she became saturated, but this was just too much.

"Juniper?" The squirrel maid turned her head in the direction from which the small voice had come from. She glimpsed a small puff of fur peering at her from around a wall, and she walked towards it. She came across a small band of dibbuns, all donned with small blankets for capes and small wooden bowls for helmets.

"And just what do we have here?" Juniper asked seriously. "What are you four up to?"

The small band, the mouse Dweemo, the mole Posie, and the two otters Toolie and Bando nervously shifted about, poking each other and whispering. Finally, Dweemo, clearly the leader, spoke out.

"We's going to go witcha on yore adventure!"

"I beg your pardon?" Juniper asked, bending down to their eye-level.

"Burr, whoi's you goin', miz?" asked Posie. "Whoi can't we come too?"

"Who told you about me goin' on an adventure?"

"Miss Poppleleaf told us, Miss Juniper," Bando said. "We want to come with!"

Juniper's jaw clenched. How could that gossipy squirrel tell every beast about the mission that was supposed to be confidential? Juniper flew off down the corridor, skillfully running, dodging, ducking, flying up staircases until she reached the room of her grandparents.

"Abbess!" Juniper shouted, pounding on the door. "Let me in!" The door was quickly opened and Juniper bounded in, yelling, "My mission was supposed to be kept secret! Why did some beast tell that dimwit of a squirrel?" She continued to rant and rave, using words that would make a grown male vermin cringe. Finally, Song placed a paw on Juniper's shoulder.

"Juniper," she said firmly, "there are few secrets in the abbey. Mainly, it's because the business of one is the care of another. We all look out for each other here, Juniper, and you must learn to live with that. It is not like where you are from where it was every beast for themselves. You need to know that we are a family, though misunderstandings can be made. Your aunt did not know that you wanted to keep this a secret, so you will have to learn to forgive her. Also, I don't know how my son raised you to speak in such a way, but here, we do not speak like such. Mind your tongue, missy, for there are those of tender ear and heart about. If you can not abide by such rules, you shall have to leave Redwall."

Juniper stared at her grandmother, unchanged by the reprimand. "Then perhaps I shall just have to leave."

She strode out of the room, leaving in her wake a saddened grandmother, and Juniper continued until she was to the abbey door. The storm was over, and it now was safe to travel outside. However, she was waylaid from leaving quite so early.

The door swung open and nine burly otters came bounding in. They laughed and shouted, causing quite a ruckus, but in the chaos, one of them noticed the squirrel in the green jerkin with a quiver on her back.

"Juniper?" he asked. The squirrel stared up at the otter, and a small smile appeared on her face.

"Rudtail!" She ran over and pounded her good friend on the back, laughing. "It's been ages, you old waterdog! Where have you been?"

"Out to the coast with my otter crew," the otter answered. He paused for a moment as a thought struck him. "And just why are you _here_? I thought you'd never come to Redwall."

"I'm here on business," she answered shortly. "Why are you here?"

"I'm Skipper here," he answered. "I'm in charge of all the otters in the abbey. Just a moment, isn't Abbess Song your gr-"

"She is," answered Song, who had come up behind Juniper. "Skipper, there is much that must be told."

After the main introductions and Skipper had been told of Juniper's return, Glendor's death, and the vision of Martin, all of the beasts in the abbess's now crowded room were silent in thought. Skipper sat next to his otter wife, Bankley, who had also returned from the coast and was a seasoned warrior herself. She was the first to make a suggestion.

"I imagine it would be best for you to stay here, Juniper, until you know who shall travel with you?"

"Yes," she answered.

"I just can't imagine Glendor dead," Skipper confessed. "He was a good pal of mine, whenever he was around long enough to spend time with him."

"Thank you, Skipper," said Dann. "It is hard for us, too, to imagine his death."

"Do you know what vermin did this?" asked Bankley to Juniper. Juniper shrugged her shoulders.

"I have a few suspicions, but half of them are nonsense. I'm sure, for the most part, that it was Vandar."

Only Skipper and Bankley seemed alarmed; the Regubas didn't know what Juniper talked about.

"Who is Vandar?" asked Hollyhock.

"A fox," Juniper answered. "I've heard about how he is ruthless and vile, worse than any other warlord. However, he does not scare me. The thought of how he murdered my kin only boils my blood and raises my desire to kill him."

"We have seen him a few times," Skipper said. "Never once, though, have we seen him intimidated by our otter forces. He even…" Skipper dropped off as the door to the room was knocked upon. All were rather alarmed, for there had been strict instructions for them to not be disturbed. Bankley rose from her chair and opened the door.

In the doorway stood an ashen-faced female mouse. Her voice trembled as she tried to speak, though the words came as unclear gibberish. Finally, though, she calmed down and was led inside by the otter wife, and she sat down on a free chair.

"Abbess," she murmured through tears, "it's about the dibbun Dweemo. He's been killed!"


	7. The Quest Begins

Sorry it took so long to get this published; I've been so busy! So it's only 1 chap, when I promised two, but another will come out shortly! I don't own Redwall.

The mouse swooned into Bankley's ready arms, and Skipper and Juniper leapt downstairs to the infirmary, with the other squirrels in their wake. They pushed through the crowd gathered around the small bed and gasped at the sight. The small mouse was covered in rivulets of blood, his fur matted and mangled. Nettlebud furiously applied dressings, though at the moment she seemed too distraught to think properly. Skipper and Juniper noticed this and pushed the hedgehog aside.

"Out of the way, marm," Skipper commanded, grabbing bandages and herbs and towels. Juniper stood at the other side of the table and worked on one part of Dweemo as the otter worked on the other side. They worked stoically and calmly, hardly speaking, keeping their concentration on the Dibbun. Dannflor, Song, and Hollyhock made their way through the crowd and stood closest to the table, mesmerized at the sight. All beasts bit their claw nails and clasped paws in anticipation, all hoping the babe would make it through.

"He's breathing, Skip," Juniper muttered. All the blood had been wiped away, and the small body sluggishly moved and the large eyes opened a fraction. A giant sigh of relief swept the crowd as Dweemo's mother and father rushed to their son.

"My great thanks to you," the male mouse said. "My name is Clemm, and I am eternally grateful to you and sir Skipper."

Juniper nearly ignored the father, but she became entranced by his pair of eyes. They were humble, and ageless, great sources of wealth and knowledge, the power of a score of otters and the wisdom of a dozen badgers. Juniper clasped his paw and nodded in acknowledgement.

Dweemo's mother also shook Juniper's paw in thanks. "My name is Asha," she said in a foreign accent Juniper realized as that of the north shores. "I hope that we can repay this enormous debt to you."

Juniper set her jaw, refusing to show emotion. "I have put together less valuable creatures than your son, Asha and Clemm. It is its own honor to see him alive."

Later in the day, Juniper, Skipper, Bankley, Hollyhock, and Clemm sat at the bank of the abbey pond as they supervised the Dibbuns at play. Still aware of Juniper's warning, the Dibbuns kept out of the water, and tossed pebbles in to create ripples. Juniper was also made aware of other Abbey residents by her friends.

"I imagine that you should know of the Terrible Three," Skipper announced, nodding towards a trio of creatures.

"Oh, Skip, do be kind," Asha pleaded. "They just have growing up to do."

"And lots of it! Anyway, the mouse is Sareen, an orphan, the hog maid is Pipsey, daughter of Nettlebud and Cobba, and the hare, the leader and worst of the lot, is Hoffington, also known as Hoffy."

"His parents are Ventri and Natasha Longlegg," Hollyhock added. "Ventri is retired Long Patrol, and they have an older son, Demetri, at Salamandastron in service now. Do you know of Salamandastron, Juniper?"

"I have been there once before," her niece answered. "Nice place."

"Of course you know Foremole Prum," Clemm said, indicating the mole near the water's edge. "He's a good and industrious fellow."

"Hmm." Juniper was only half-listening to the conversation around her; she concentrated on the water, how it reflected the sunset's orange and gold illumination. She was transfixed by the waves and ripples and splashes, the intricate patterns they made. Suddenly, to Juniper the water became calm and settled, and the image of Martin formed on the surface. He pointed his great sword at Juniper, and then off to his right in the direction of Clemm, and then to the left, at a tall and brawny female otter. Martin spoke smoothly and hypnotically to Juniper.

"An unsaid secret lies between creatures three,

A wandering squirrel, father mouse, and otter of sea.

Take up my mission together, you are sent,

To retrace the path the way my sword went."

Martin's image faded, and Juniper looked about her. It was nearly dark, and all were returning to the abbey for supper.

After dining, Juniper held another council with her grandparents. She told them of Martin's message and that he had told her with whom to travel. Clemm, Asha, Skipper, Bankley, and the female otter, Erwin, were sent for. Juniper relayed her information to them, and mixed emotions filled all.

"But, what is this untold secret, Clemm?" Asha asked her husband. "Surely it is not terrible?"

"I am not sure what secret I share with Juniper and Erwin, my dear," he answered, truly confused. "I mean, there are many little things of my life I haven't told any beast, but just because I think them to be inconsequential."

"I think that we shall be the judges of that, Clemm," Abbess Song stated. She turned to the young otter. "Erwin, is there any 'untold secret' that you think could be connected to these two?"

Erwin stood still, deep in thought. All eyes were fixed on her, hoping she would provide a clue to the puzzle. Finally, she spoke.

"When I was young, quite young, actually, my family and I lived on the north coast. It was an amazing, well, not really amazing, but different place to live. There were many places to explore, and as a young'un, I loved to wander and discover. Well, one day, I came across a group of caves in the cliff sides. They seemed to be abandoned, and I wandered inside one. There wasn't particularly much to see, just a bunch of old, dusty, broken furniture and odds and ends. However, there was one area that caught me eyes. On a small rock ledge lay three pieces of--"

"--green sea glass," Clemm quietly answered. All stared at the mouse, who shook slightly at his realization. "Did you take one of the pieces, Erwin?"

"Yes," she whispered. She reached into a small pouch on her belt and produced a shining piece of sea glass of medium size.

Juniper stared at the piece, and then at Clemm. "How did you know about it?" she asked urgently.

"I was young, also," he said, "and I too, loved to explore. My clan and I had been driven from our grove by vermin, and we were searching for a new home. We ended up at the coast, and I wandered away from the rest and came across a cave. However, there were only two pieces when I arrived. I took one, and gave it Asha as a wedding present." He nodded to his wife, who drew out a cord around her neck with the stone hanging from it. It was a smaller piece, and was set in clay. She unclasped the cord and handed it to Abbess Song, who also held Erwin's stone. Now, it was Juniper's turn.

"It was soon after Father was killed," she said quietly. "I wandered to the coast, and found the cave. I took the last piece. She reached into her jerking pocket and brought forth the last stone, then handed it to her grandmother. "Quite a message, don't you think?"

"Quite," Asha agreed.

The next morning, preparations were made for the great journey. Juniper stood on the battlement as others said their good-byes with friends and family. Not much for farewells, Juniper itched, wanting to spring for the trail and take off. She was thankful that Erwin and Clemm seemed like hardy creatures, tough and strong for the road ahead.

That morning, Juniper had waxed her bowstring, replenished her arrow supply from the abbey's stores, and sharpened her belt knife. Erwin had armed herself with a sling and stone pouch, and Clemm carried a small hatchet and staff. Juniper's paws tickled at the thought of holding Martin's sword, of avenging her father, mother and scattered kin. Such a wonderful journey lay ahead! The abbey was too peaceful a place for one like Juniper, and her eyes tinged red and her mouth frothed at the thought of slaying vermin.

Finally, the gate opened, and Clemm and Erwin strode out, leaving behind waving loved ones. Juniper merely turned and nodded to her grandparents and aunt Hollyhock, and leapt from the battlements. She soared into the boughs of a nearby oak, and then skid down the trunk to the ground.

"Right," she said to her amazed companions, "onward and forward!"


	8. North! or, Careful what you wish for

Okay, it's been a while, I know. Happy New Years to all! Enjoy the latest chapter

Vandar strode ahead of the others who trudged behind. Light flurries danced on the biting wind, and the bare trees groaned above. The fox only pulled his white cloak tightly about him as he trotted along. The dream, which had haunted him only several nights before, had been banished from his mind, and all he could think of was annihilating all Wandering Whites from the north.

At midday, a short break was called. The weary drones of Vandar collapsed on the ground. Some made small fires and gnawed at food while others took the time to take a quick sleep.

"Wenva!" cried Vandar. The elderly rat scurried to her master's side.

"What is it, my lord?"

"Do you think that the winter shall prove terribly harsh this season?"

Wenva hesitated, not knowing how to answer. She picked up a small pawful of dirt and watched it sift down between her claws. The rat studied the mounds carefully, knowing her life depended on them.

"It is too early to ask for a clear answer, my lord, of the weather…"

Vandar's eyes narrowed into slits.

"…but it is clear that you shall meet many, many Whites, my lord, and they shall be at your mercy." Wenva's heart slowed to its normal rhythm as Vandar's mouth turned into a small smile.

"Very good, my seer. Well, it's not good to let the army go soft with these long breaks." Vandar stood and shouted, "Let's move! The journey may seem hard, but there many ways to which I can make it seem harder!"

The horde muttered many curses under their breath as they stood and trudged on again after their leader. Wenva crawled into her basket carried by an extremely tall and strong female weasel named Tirb.

"The way shall be treacherous, Tirb," whispered the seer. "The Wandering Whites shall destroy those crazy enough to challenge them."

"But I thought you said Vandar will win," said the not-too-bright weasel.

"I know what I said. The signs show the truth, though the seer may not always. The Whites have been defeated before, but there is one coming who shall lead them."

"A squirrel?"

"I don't know! Something! But remember this, Tirb. We must act completely loyal to Vandar until we battle the Whites. At the first sign of attack, carry me to safety, and you shall save your skin as well. Deal?"

The weasel hesitated for only a moment before she agreed. "Deal!"

"Come on, you two!" Juniper sprinted ahead, her paws kicking up frozen chunks of dirt that occasionally flew back and hit one of her companions. Clemm and Erwin jogged along behind the squirrel, trying to decide if she was crazy or insane.

"Juniper, you must slow down!" called Erwin. "Me and Clemm can't keep up with you, and you'll tire yourself out in a few days at that pace. Now let's take a break; we've been traveling for hours!"

Juniper reluctantly slowed down and turned back to be with her friends. She sat near them on their spread cloaks and took a small sip from her canteen. Clemm and Erwin quickly munched a few nuts and dried fruits and stood again.

"Ask her, Clemm," Erwin muttered, lightly jabbing the mouse. Juniper's ears perked up.

"Ask me what?"

"Well, it seems like there's no real plan, Juniper," Clemm stated outright. He was surprised to see Juniper give a sly smile.

"Of course there's a plan; I guess I just forgot to tell you two. We're going to the northlands, which is where I imagine Vandar will be headed. This is the time of year he attacked my family. He is no fool, know that. The Wandering Whites always gather in the northlands during the winter; their camouflaging fur serves them best where there's snow. Anyway, I hope you two like the cold." Juniper jumped up and trotted ahead, and the others donned their cloaks again and set after her.

"Darn, ole, boring Abbey," muttered Hoffy, kicking the red sandstone wall. "There's a great, bally exciting adventure going on out there, and we don't get to be part of it."

"Don't feel bad, Hoffy," said Pipsey. "There're lots to do around here. We have our chores and rooms to keep clean…"

"Oh, Pipsey, that's all the most booooooring stuff in the world!" cried Sareen. "Why don't we go race the Dibbuns? I have a hunch that little otter Toolie could make good speed, and I still have to win back my green ribbon from you, Hoffy."

"We raced the Dibbuns only a week ago, and the mums got on our case for doing it. You'd think there'd be _something_ worth doing here," murmured Hoffy.

The three adolescent creatures sighed and leaned against the wall. What to do?

CCRRAAAAASHHHHH!

All three jumped at once and raced down the hall and to the kitchens, from whence the noise had come. There, in a heap of white and red powder and several broken bowls, stood three furious cooks, yelling up at the Dibbuns dancing with glee on top of the cupboards.

"Um, Hoffy, weren't we supposed to be watching those?" asked Sareen.

"Hoffington Terzeckrius Longlegg!" screamed one of the flour-and-hot root pepper-covered beings.

"Egad! It's Mum!" cried Hoffy. He tried to make a dash for it, but Natasha grabbed him by his ears.

"You were supposed-achoo!- to be watching those-wheeze-urchins, and now-cough- look!"

"We're sorry, really we are," apologized Pipsey. "Shall we help clean up?"

"You shall-gasp-help by taking those-achoo!-Dibbuns out onto the yard!" yelled Asha. "You three, take all five of these things outside!"

The three obediently reached up for and grabbed the little mites, except for the one that outran the grasping paws.

"Haha! No you catch me!"

"Dweemo, get down here right this instant!" Asha leapt up and grabbed the fat little mouse and thrust him into Sareen's hands.


	9. Foreshadow

Hoffy's teeth chattered against the cold. Wanting to appear hardy and weather-tolerable, he had sunk to his vanity and not bothered to don winter ware as his female friends had. The hare watched Sareen and Pipsey holding the paws of four Dibbuns, Posie, Toolie, and two other mice, Lol and Bridget. Hoffy kicked a clod of frozen mud and furiously rubbed his arms, attempting to warm himself.

"Got kicked out, eh, mate?" Skipper Rudtail trotted up to the forlorn hare.

"Wasn't my fault," Hoffy muttered through chattering teeth. "Those crazy Dibbuns are nothing but trouble to a young one like me. 'Watch the Dibbuns', 'Play with the Dibbuns', 'You weren't watching them? Go out into the blinking cold and freeze your bally tail off!'"

Skipper laughed and placed a paw on his friend's shoulder. "You know, a little bit of punishment might be good for you…" Hoffy's face fell. "…but, perhaps something other than babysitting will teach you a lesson. Come on, I need help in the armory. I'm sure your friends over there are more suited for taking care of the babes than you."

Hoffy smiled and straightened up importantly. He ran over to Sareen and Pipsey and told them where he would be, and then bounded off to join Skipper.

It wasn't until Hoffy was inside the warm Abbey when he asked, "Skipper, what armory? There's never been an armory in Redwall."

Skipper lowered his voice. "Not yet, that's the key. Lately I've had a feeling, Hoffy, a bad one. I don't know what it is, but something keeps telling me to get prepared. It's as though Martin himself was in my 'ead, saying 'War is coming; rally the forces!' Of course, that could be nonsense, but nonetheless, something that big shouldn't be ignored, should it?"

Hoffy shook his head, with a chill running through his body. A war? He had only heard of it in Abbey school, never experienced it. But with all that had been going on at the Abbey lately, it seemed as though anything was possible.

Abbess Song gazed out the window, trying to spot Juniper, Clemm, and Erwin, but knowing they were long gone. She quickly brushed away a tear with her paw, a tear brought on by the thought of her only granddaughter away on such a dangerous quest. But, she consoled herself, knowing that the hardy creatures Erwin the otter and Clemm the mouse traveled with her.

"Don't worry, my dear," said Dann as he walked up next to her, "Juniper is a tough squirrel, of good blood. She's a Swifteye, Reguba, and Wandering White. Who could ask for a fiercer, shrewder creature?"

Song smiled at Dann's logic. "To be sure, Dann. I just, well, can't stop worrying. It's an instinct, I guess, a mother's protective side." Dann squeezed her paw reassuringly and walked off.

Song left her room and traveled down the corridors, stopping when she heard the voice of Skipper. She listened to him talking to the young hare Hoffy. Her ears perked up considerably when she heard the word "armory". She bounded out from her spot and intercepted the two.

"Oh, afternoon, marm," Skipper greeted Song.

"Yes, afternoon to you also," she answered. She turned to Hoffy. "I believe you should be serving a punishment at this moment, am I not right?"

"Well, marm," started Skipper, "I have some duties that I really need help with, and I could use Hoffy's skills."

"Skipper, I heard you mention forming an armory. Now, what's this?"

Skipper sighed and explained his instincts. Song nodded, contemplating.

"It's not the way of Redwall to have stores of weapons on hand, but you have never failed us, Skipper. I suppose it's all right, as long as you keep this to the only people who need to know. Do you understand this, Hoffy? No blabbing to your friends about this?"

"Yes, ma'am, " he answered, feeling quite mature all of a sudden.

"Good. You may proceed, Skipper. You may use that spare storage room in the cellars that no creature uses. Good luck with your project."

Song turned and walked off.


	10. A clue and a vole

Juniper, Erwin, and Clemm walked briskly along the north-running path. They had been traveling for a few days, and made great progress. A light snow had begun to fall, but Juniper could not feel the cold; her blood ran hot through her limbs, heated by the thoughts of avenging her parents and retrieving Martin's sword. Erwin and Clemm also felt the warmth brought by knowing their service to the Abbey and Martin, and they wondered at what they would encounter along the way.

"Did you hear that?" asked Clemm as a twig snapped a little bit away.

"Yeah," answered Erwin. "Juniper, did you?" Erwin looked around for her friend, but saw no trace of the squirrel. More twigs snapped, closer this time. Clemm drew his hatchet and Erwin readied her sling, but when the small furry head appeared over the dead grass on the trail's edge, they lowered their weapons.

"Hello," Clemm said. "Who are you?"

The small, nervous-looking vole walked towards them. "I'm Fiffen. Who are you?"

"I'm Erwin," said the otter, "and this is Clemm. We're traveling also with a squirrel named Juniper, but we don't know where she is at this moment."

"Oh. I'm sorry if this seems rude, but I haven't eaten in almost a week, and, that is, if it's not too much trouble, could you spare some vittles for a poor traveler?"

"Of course we can," said Erwin, not giving it a second thought. She opened two haversacks. "Take what you need."

The vole reached in and pulled out several packages of food. Both Erwin and Clemm, who had been raised in Redwall and were therefore hospitable, begrudged nothing to the little vole. The haversacks were nearly empty when the vole turned, laden down with food, said a quick good-bye, and disappeared. Soon afterwards, a vicious _zip_ of two arrows broke the winter silence, and two screams pierced the air. Erwin and Clemm ran to the source of the scream, and found Juniper, bow in paw, standing over two dead stoats, and Fiffen trembling by the side.

Juniper looked up at Erwin and Clemm. "Be more careful, next time," she stated flatly. She rummaged through the still vermin's supplies, and produced a short dagger in a scabbard; she threw this to Erwin, who buckled it on. After finding nothing else, she turned to Fiffen.

"So, let me guess: You were captured by these two vermin here to be their little slave, to claim to be a 'lost wanderer' to passing woodlanders, steal their food, and bring it back to the stoats, hopefully getting a crust or two in addition to staying alive for another day, correct?"

Fiffen burst into tears, and Erwin comforted him. "Poor little mite," she said. "He's hardly more than a dibbun. Have a heart, Juniper; he's been through an awful ordeal." She looked down at the sniffling vole. "Dry those eyes, Fiffen. Now, do you have a family to go back to?"

"Yes," he managed with a nod. "They live up by the ford."

"Well, that settles it, then," Erwin said. "We'll take little Fiffen here to his home on our way." Fiffen smiled and Juniper tried to hide her disappointment, knowing the little vole would probably slow them down and get in the way. But, they continued down the path, with the smiling Fiffen, who had replaced the haversacks' food, skipping and smiling along with the three travelers.

Skipper and Hoffy stood out in the forest, with the otter looking for dead tree limbs to make into spears and arrows and bows. The work was not what Hoffy had anticipated. He had imagined wearing a nice uniform and making medals for which to commend himself, like the ones his older brother at Salamandastron had earned. However, now he was freezing, just as he had been earlier, and now watching dibbuns seemed tempting.

"Cheer up, Hoffy," said Skipper, taking an ax and chopping at a fallen oak tree. "Don't you want to be part of something great, the defense of the abbey?"

"Not really," he muttered.

"Oh, stop being like that. The abbey needs defense. Like that time a little bit ago when Dweemo got attacked by that bird in the abbey. Do you want that for the dibbuns, to be attacked without any defense?"

Hoffy thought about the chubby little mouse that still bore a few scratches and scars. Though he was a little troublemaker, Hoffy had a soft spot for the little mouse. "Fine, I guess you have a point," he admitted to Skipper. Hoffy took an ax and started chopping.

In the abbey, Song and Dann cleaned out the spare room that would become the armory.

"Dann, do you remember when Glendor was little, when you were still the warrior of Redwall?" Song looked over at the aged squirrel.

"Yes; why?"

"Do you remember the time, after that small invasion of ferrets in the Abbey, when we won the battle, and you hung your sword back up, Glendor came over and told you he was going to be warrior someday? And then, you got this sad, far-off look in your eyes, and you told him, 'Yes, son, you will, but for you, the warrior life will not be what it was for me.' And then you walked off, and became melancholy for days."

Dann nodded slowly. "Yes, I remember."

Out in the forest, Hoffy and Skipper rolled a dead trunk from its original position, to see if anything could be salvaged of the rotting timber. Hoffy surveyed the tree, and then did a double take. Did he just see—yes, he did! He bent down and examined the dull, flat strip of yellow metal.

"Skipper!" he yelled excitedly. "I found something."

Skipper bounded over and bent down. "Well, bless my tail. What do you think it is?"

Hoffy tore away the loam and dirt surrounding the piece of metal. The item finally came loose, and he examined it. The flat piece of dull gold bore strange markings and four small jet stones, one in each corner of the rectangle.


	11. Birchbark

Vandar strode ahead of his horde, enjoying the stinging winds and the winter scene. Raised in the northlands, he had grown in this environment, and his blood ran thickly, keeping him warm and enduring in the cold. His army, though, picked up from many warmer climates, did not equally enjoy the season.

"Brr, I'm freezin', I am!" muttered Copple the ferret to the rat Dret marching near him. "Doesn't Vandar know he won't have an army if he marches them in this weather?"

"It's not cold enough to freeze anybeast to death, idiot," replied Dret. "Besides, be careful what you say. No telling who's favored by Vandar nowadays. Could even be me." He gave Copple a sinister glare, then chortled. "Don't go looking like a hooked fish, matey. I ain't with that treacherous villain." He leaned in to whisper, "I hear all we're doing is settling a score with that bunch of white squirrels we dealt with those ten or so seasons back, remember?"

Copple nodded. "Oh, yeah." He craned his neck to see the sword of Martin strapped across their leader's back. "That's when Vandar got that sword. I remember. But why are we going back? I thought those squirrels were not worth dealing with."

"I heard him talking with Wenva, that witch-rat," murmured Grimpaw, who had been listening in to their conversation. "Vandar says he's gonna settle a score with them, that's he had dreams about himself being revenged; he wants to wipe out anything that might be a threat!" The two rats and the ferret quickly fell silent as Tirb the weasel strode by, with the ancient Wenva in her basket. After she passed, the vermin shuddered.

"I wouldn't want to make that rat mad at me," Dret said. "There's no telling what spell she could put on me!"

Along the trail, further south of the vermin band, Juniper and her companions traveled on, now with the little vole Fiffen in their company. He amused Clemm and Erwin with his silly songs and acrobatics, but fortunately, he was not slowing them down one bit. He raced an appropriate space ahead, and then ran back to Erwin, who hoisted him up to her shoulders.

"Gothca, you little villain!" Fiffen giggled.

"When we get to my home, my momma and poppa are gone have quite a treat for you for finding me," he proclaimed happily. "And then we'll sing and dance and dance and dance and dance!" He kicked his little legs in a jig, and even the hardened Juniper had to smile in spite of herself. The little fellow reminded her so much of her older brother, Birchbark, in the few memories she possessed of him. He could be dead, for all she knew, but she kept the faint hope in the back of her mind that when they reached the northlands, she would find him.

At around noon the next day, the four arrived at the ford. In past days, the ford had been shallow enough to wade across, but now, the ford had grown deeper, and all creatures dreaded the pike that patrolled the waters. A small ferry had been set up, but it lay moored on the other side. The four looked around puzzled, until Clemm called out, "Is there a ferry keeper hereabouts? We're four good creatures, wanting to cross!"

At his voice, a large hog trundled up from seemingly nowhere on the far bank. He wore a rough homespun smock and a large cape.

"What can Roofin do fer you?" he shouted across to the travelers. "A ferry ride is at least one loaf of bread, or—my goodness! There you are, young feller! Your papa was nearly dying of grief the last few days!" Roofin hurriedly jumped onto the ferry, causing it to sink down, then bounce back up, sending spray flying. The hog quickly poled himself across the ford, avoiding the floating ice chunks that sailed by. He hastily tied up the ferry, then sprang to the bank and clutched up the little vole, being careful of his spikes.

"Gracious, it is the little mite! Well, pluck my spikes." He looked up at the squirrel, otter, and mouse. "Thanks to ye, good beasts. When Fiffen went missin' a few weeks back, the entire Buntha were plum-stricken with grief." He looked at the smiling vole and a smile lit up his own face. "But now, great reeds and waters, the little'un's back, safe and sound!"

"Excuse me," said Erwin, "but what is a Buntha?"

Roofin looked shocked. "My dear, you have never heard of the great Buntha vole clan? Pikes'n'spikes! The Buntha are a great vole family that live upstream aways. Little Fiffen here is the only son of their leader, Lonk. Now, let's not tarry! Jump on, everyone!" Roofin, with Fiffen in his paws, happily jumped aboard, and hesitantly Juniper and her friends followed, concerned of the maximum weight the ferry could hold. But, the little craft held steadily as Roofin poled them across the ford. At the other side, they all jumped off, and Roofin handed Fiffen off to Juniper.

"Now, you go on and have a great celebration with the Buntha."

"But, mister Roofin, won't you join us?" asked Erwin.

"No, dear. I'd love to, but someone's got to keep this ferry safe." He then disappeared into the reeds and cattails, quite a feat for a hog of his girth.

"Now, Fiffen, which way to your home?" Juniper asked. She set the little tike down, and he scuttled ahead a ways, down the riverside to a large sprawling fallen oak tree. He pointed at the sealed-up trunk, and Juniper knocked on it. It amazingly swung open and instantly, they were engulfed by the Buntha.

The next thing Juniper knew, she and Erwin and Clemm were seated on cushions inside the oak, with voles all around them, asking questions and demanding each other to see the lost and found Fiffen. A large vole with a crown of braided reeds upon his head, which the travelers assumed as Lonk, held his son tightly, fighting back tears. Eventually, though, he came to face the travelers.

"My great thanks to you, creatures. Please, what are your names?" Introductions were made to Lonk, and then the leader proclaimed, "These brave beasts, Juniper, Erwin, and Clemm, have risked their lives to save my only son from terrible danger. Quick! Prepare a feast for them, and we shall revel in their tale of heroic efforts!" Much cheering met this command, and soon, tables laden with steaming and chilled foods of all sorts lay spread before the guests. Grilled pike swimming in herbs and butter, salads made from river vegetation, fresh and crystallized fruits, farls, loafs, and flatbreads of all textures and colors, cheese slices and wedges, pies, crumbles, cakes, and other sweets, and ales, juices, teas, and wines of all flavors. Erwin, Clemm, and Juniper quickly adapted to the festive atmosphere, enjoying the warm fire and relaxing for a bit. Juniper was surprised that she became so distant from her previous tense and hurried self, and wanted nothing more than to sit and eat and watch the singers and dancers.

"I am in great debt to you," Lonk declared. "You who have saved my youngest babe and are on a mission to destroy the terrible Vandar. I have lost many good voles to his armies, and appreciate your efforts."

"The mission is also personal for me," Juniper informed him. "Vandar killed my parents and many of my mother's people, the Wandering Whites."

"You don't say? Who was your mother?"  
"Her name was Tolia Silverbranch. I also have, or had, a brother names Birchbark. I don't know if he lives or not."

"Birchbark Reguba?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, Birchbark, a squirrel who quite resembles you. I have met him; he passes this way every once in a while."

Juniper's heart lightened considerably. "He is alive?"

"Yes, quite alive. He and some of his squirrel allies patrolled our forest for a few summers, and helped build this wonderful home." Lonk gestured around him at the marvelously carved interior of the oak. "I hope you find him well, Juniper Reguba."

"Thank you, sir." Juniper gazed around her, at the happy vole clan, their children and old ones and everybeast in between smiling and talking and enjoying the warmth and comforts of home. If only her life could ever be that way. But first, her mission needed to be completed, to ensure the safety of her mother's kind and all others from the wrath of Vandar the fox.

The next morning, after Clemm, Juniper, and Erwin had slept soundly and had their haversacks repacked, they stood at the oak tree's entrance with Lonk and a sturdy-looking young vole named Alec.

"Alec is a nephew of mine," Lonk told them. "He is a great fighter, fearless and brave, and quite clever. It's the least I can do, to let one of the Buntha come with you, after all you have done and all you shall do. I wish you safe travels. Good bye!" The three travelers, who took to Alec immediately, nodded their thanks, and with their new companion, walked back to the trail and continued northward.

A ways to the north, a tall, young male Wandering White sniffed the air. No scent of vermin was yet distinguishable, and he sighed inwardly in relief. He leaped skillfully along the conifers to the small encampment of other Wandering Whites. An older female warrior stood and greeted him.

"No scent yet, Birchbark?"

"None, Anja. But they draw nearer every day; I can feel it."

Anja nodded, knowingly. She had helped Tolia raise Birchbark, and she sensed every day that this squirrel possessed within him a unique quality brought on by his sharp senses, great leadership, and an incredible knowledge of worldly information. He had led their scattered bands throughout Mossflower Country, the northlands, the west coasts, and the southlands, and had never led them astray. But yet, he seemed remote at times, sad, and inconsolable.

Birchbark held his head high, knowing within him that while the vermin might be coming, his sister, Juniper Swifteye Reguba, part Wandering White, and part Redwall warrior, also drew nearer to the north.


	12. A riddle

I was rereading my previous chapters in this story, and realized I was inconsistent in the amount of time passed between Juniper's arrival at Redwall and when her parents died, so I'm saying now: It was approximately eight seasons in between. Sorry if this confused any of you readers out there.

Pipsey, Sareen, and Hoffy stood around the table bearing the gold plate. Song, Dann, Hollyhock, Skipper, Bankley, Foremole, and the Recorder mouse Orwell also were in attendance, staring at the strange markings the item bore. Skipper was first to speak.

"I do say, I've never seen anything like that before in my life."

"Aye," Orwell said, "nor have I. But, I think I can help you in terms of understanding all of those little markings."

Song looked at him, amazed. "Well, tell us, please!"

"It appears to be Loamscript. That's the language used at Loamhedge before Redwall was built. I can read it; yes, yes, it does make sense. I learned it as part of my Recorder training; John Churchmouse suggested in one of his logs that all Recorders should learn Loamscript, just in case it should be of need. And now, it is!"

"Then, please, Orwell, translate the message for us," Dann said excitedly.

"Ahem…" Orwell was about to begin. "Is there some parchment and a quill with which to record it?"

Supplies were quickly fetched, and Orwell began. "It's a poem, no, actually, a riddle." He squinted at the plate. "Here is what is says:

'Four creatures not alive

With power to stop all that thrive.

No want for them in peace times

Fools with them commit crimes.

Out of bell tower, south a day

West at the triple cherry spray

Then find those who fell trees,

Metal ones who sting like bees,

Those who hum and spit out ground,

And some that at the top, flint is found.'

"That's all of it, Abbess." Orwell sat down, and Pipsey looked at the poem.

"Well, it's quite a riddle, I'll grant you that." She looked at her friend. "Sareen, you are good at solving these things, aren't you?"  
"I do enjoy them, yes," she said. She took the parchment, and read the first two lines. " 'With power to stop all that thrive.' Hmm, well, I imagine that what's being spoken of is weapons."

The abbey beasts spoke together, "Weapons?"

Sareen nodded. "Think of it: Weapons do not live, therefore they are 'creatures not alive'. They're also used in battle to slay others, and if you use a kitchen knife to slice off dandelion shoots, they die. Also, no one needs or wants weapons in peaceful times, and fools can use them for unsavory deeds. Hence, weapons."

"Good job, gel," Hoffy said, slapping Sareen's back. "And just at the time we are gathering supplies for weapons, we find a find a thingummy that talks about them. Quite wonderful. But what does it all mean?"  
"I think it is telling a route, Hoffy, to get to weapons," Dann said. "See, it includes the words 'south' and 'west'."

"Yes, that seems right," said Skipper. "I am pretty sure the bell tower means our bell tower, home of the Matthias and Methuselah bells, but what in the seasons is a 'triple cherry spray'?"

The group were silent, thinking about that fact. Sareen piped up. "I think it just needs to be found out."

"Yes, you are right dear," Bankley said. "I imagine that whatever it is, it can't be missed. Perhaps someone must go on a mission to find out."

"Bur, but, oo'll go, oi wunder?" asked Foremole.

"I suggest that Hoffy, Sareen, and Pipsey take this upon them," said Song. She answered the looks of question with, "These beasts are growing to become adults, and a good trip like this will help them become responsible members of the abbey." She turned to Hoffy. "Do you or your friends object to this suggestion?"

"No, marm, not at all!" He saluted smartly. Pipsey and Sareen also felt equally eager for the mission. "Just tell us when to go, marm!"

"Now, hold on, you three," Song said. "I don't want you off on your own. Bankley, would you mind going with them?"

"Of course not, Abbess," replied the otter. "Sorry to spoil your fun, young ones, but you're not quite old enough to be on your own."

As preparations were being made for their departure, Bankley found Skipper standing by himself, looking preoccupied.

"Still feeling like something bad will come to the Abbey?" asked his concerned wife. "Do you know if something will happen?"

"I'm just thinking about when Dweemo was attacked, Bank. It didn't seem like a random attack; no birds just strike out at dibbuns, not here at least. Do you know what kind of bird it was?"

"The other dibbuns say it was large; Toolie said it looked like an eagle, but eagles aren't generally evil, are they?"

"Not really." Skipper sighed. "But, there is little good worrying will do. Take care on your travels, Bankley, and watch out for those young ones. I'll take care of Toolie."

"And keep at your armory, Skip." She gave him a smile and returned to preparing for the trip.


	13. Hope from some rabbits

Juniper and her friends traveled along in the increasingly cold days. They each kept to their own thoughts, only speaking when necessary. For Clemm and Erwin, the northlands were a new experience; they had never traveled this far north. Alec was also amazed, since he had always stayed around his family's den. Juniper hadn't traveled this way in many seasons, but the cold and the scents brought back many memories for her, some happy, others painful.

As they walked along the bank of an icy stream, a sudden cry rent the air. All heads turned to see a family of rabbits on the other side, and a small young leveret thrashing about in the quickly flowing waters. It was evident the young one was in trouble. Without even thinking, Erwin leaped into the stream and glided towards the leveret. The otter grasped the young one in her front paws and swam towards the far shore.

"Hello there!" Clemm called out to the relieved family. "Is she alright?"

"Yes, thank you," replied a large male, evidently the father. "Whither away, travelers?"

"The northlands, to the forests of the Wandering Whites," stated Juniper. "We are on a quest to rid the lands of the fox Vandar."

At the name, the rabbits all shuddered. "He passed by here not too long ago," said the mother. "We were safe in our den, hidden from view. Alas, he destroyed our winter gardens and cut down many of our trees to create fires." She burst out crying and was comforted by her husband.

"Please, cross the stream in a way so that we may converse in an easier fashion," suggested the father. Juniper and her friends nodded, and then trotted forward, to a wide, shallow area of the stream. They crossed quickly, not savoring the coldness of the water, and joined the rabbit family.

"I would like to introduce my family," said the father. "I am Opser Fotherway, and this is my wife, Brentisa, and our children, Mollita, Jamsim, Creedew, Betherford, and our youngest, just saved by your otter friend, Quintolly. And how are you called?"

"I am Juniper Reguba, a Wandering White, these are Clemm and Erwin of Redwall, and this is Alec of the Buntha tribe."

"We are in much debt to you," said Brentisa. "Surely, what can we do to repay you?"

"Only tell us all you saw of Vandar."

"Oh, we shall tell you, but perhaps you would like to join us in the den?"

The travelers agreed, and they followed the family to the rabbit den. It was a small, warm, cozy place under a hill, the entrance hidden from sight. They all sat down, given warm blankets each, and soon found themselves surrounded by young sleeping rabbits. Quintolly, the smallest, had curled up on Erwin's lap.

"Now, about Vandar," began Opser, "he has come by this way before. Always he has quite an army of vermin with him, and this time was no exception. Scores of vermin flanked him, all dangerous-looking creatures. Vandar was wrapped in a cloak of white fur, and seemed quite confident of himself."

"The cloak was undoubtedly made of the hides of my kin," said Juniper flatly. "Is that all you can tell us?"

"Yes, that's all," said Brentisa, perhaps a little too quickly. Clemm eyed her suspiciously.

"Are you sure that's all, ma'am?"

The rabbit couple looked at each other, and then Opser confessed in a hushed tone, "We heard an ancient rat, she looked like an oracle or seer, speaking with a large weasel. The rat spoke of a vision she had, where a squirrel and others came and confronted Vandar and a great battle ensued. She said also that Vandar grew nervous day by day, though he tries to hide it from the others. I assume she spoke of you, Juniper. We didn't want to say anything, lest you be worried about endangering your friends in battle. Terribly sorry we hesitated."

"Not to worry," said Juniper. "We have been sent by Martin the Warrior's spirit to the battle field. We shall destroy the vermin, I promise you."

"And though I was not sent by Martin, I will stand by Juniper to the death to help keep my family and other good creatures safe from vermin!" proclaimed Alec.

The rabbit family's hearts were greatly lifted by this. They treated the travelers to more provisions, and then they continued on their way, crossing the stream again and continuing northward bound.

"Come on, you lot, up off your haunches." Vandar strode through his ranks of vermin who had been on a short respite. "We've got to get moving; it'll be summer by the time we get to the squirrels. Move!" The vermin groaned and got up, except for a small group. Their leader, Whitepaw, told them repeatedly it was nonsense to go to the forest only to restock Vandar's fur supply. Vandar strode over to them.

"I said get up, you mangy lot!"

"We're not going any farther north, Vandar," declared Whitepaw, standing up. "It's getting colder every day, the provisions are running short, and the vermin are getting sick. Why do you want to kill all the Wandering Whites anyway? Got a grudge against them?"

Vandar drew Martin's sword and challenged the ferret. "You aren't being very wise today, Whitepaw. Do you see this blade? You've seen me kill many creatures with it. Would you like to be added to the list?" He smiled evilly at the subdued ferret. "Good."

Vandar trotted to the front of the ranks of vermin confidently. But then, he quaked slightly. There, in the path was the mouse in armor wielding the sword Vandar carried. Behind him stood a squirrel, and then legions of squirrels and other creatures. They seemed to be charging him, getting closer and closer. Vandar let out a sharp scream.

"What is it?" cried out Wenva, who rode in her basket close by.

Vandar tried to regain his composure as he turned to the rat in the basket. "Nothing, just stepped on a thorn, that's all." He marched off, with his legions following.

Above the scene in a pine tree, the squirrel Dappo stared down at the vermin. Her mottled white and gray fur helped her hide in the snow-covered branches. Dappo belonged to a small clan that patrolled the southern-most regions of the northlands. She had heard everything the vermin had said, and knew that they only meant to kill all of her kind. She sighed quietly, then bounded off through the trees to report the incident to her kin.


	14. The Birds

Hoffy, Sareen, Pipsey, and Bankley strode through southern Mossflower, all eyes peled for the "triple cherry spray". However, while the youths tried to stay serious and keep the gravity of the mission in mind, they couldn't help but engage in fun. They rolled and threw snowballs at each other, skipped stones on the pools not covered in ice, and sang a quaint Redwall ditty, taught to them in their Dibbun days:

"The warmth, the safety, the lovely feasts

All offered to every beast,

The love, the family, all that's good,

Are all in this building of stone and wood.

"Redwall, Redwall! Our home is Redwall!

"Founded by the brave Martin sir,

Who rid the land of every foe and cur,

We celebrate and give our thanks,

Bells echo through woods, shores, and banks!

"Redwall, Redwall, our—"

"Shhh!" Bankley held a paw to her muzzle and pushed the young ones into a group. "Stay here." She sniffed the air cautiously and drew forth a small dagger. Leaving the path, the otter crept over the snow to a medium-sized copse of pine trees. The three travelers hunkered down and watched Bankley curiously.

"What's she doing?" asked Sareen.

"No idea," said Pipsey. "I hope missus Bankley's not in danger."

"Nonsense, Pip," said Hoffy. "That otterlady is Skipper's gel, no need to worry about her."

There was reason to worry, though. As Bankley entered the copse, she faced nearly five score vermin, who had made the grove their winter camp. Bankley was quickly spotted and charged by several varmints. Brandishing her blade, Bankley stabbed out and about, wounding a couple. However, the enemy overpowered her too much, and Bankley was soon taken prisoner.

The three Redwallers huddled together, shaken up after seeing the incident. Pipsey's bottom lip quivered.

"Waaah, she's been taken captive, and she'll be killed, and all of Redwall will blame us!"

Sareen hugged her friend. "No, Pipsey, we need to save her."

"The mouse is right, Pip," said Hoffy. "We are now on a double mission, friends: To save madam Bankley, and then look for the triple cherry thingy. Come on, chins in, chests out, all that military hoo-haa. Now, first, we need a plan…"

Back at Redwall, Skipper went adamantly to work on the armory. Foremole Prum and his moles had helped build shelves and brought in barrels and replaced rotten woodwork in the old closet. Skipper had brought in some of the wooden staves and javelins he had made, and a few old bundles of arrows and a few ancient bows found in the cellars. The closet stood ready to be filled with all manner of weaponry.

"It'd be nice if the Redwallers knew much about weapon makin', though," muttered Skipper.

"Zur Zkipper, daon't be worried," said Foremole, smiling. "Those young'uns and yore missus'll come back with lodes of swords and bows and whatnot."

Skipper gave a faint smile. "Yes, but will it be in time?"

Neetlebud stood off to the side with Song, watching Skipper and Foremole conversing.

"I just don't like it, Song," said the hogwife. "My little Pipsey is off who knows where to search for weapons, Skipper looks more worried than a fish in a dry spell, and those birds keep clustering in the branches near the Abbey."

"What birds?" asked Song, alarmed.

"Haven't you seen them, Song? They're always coming and going. Oh, it makes me so worried! I told Poppleleaf to help me keep the Dibbuns inside, but you know how they are, always wanting to go visit Dobbin in the gatehouse, and with all the comings and goings, they're likely to slip out any door."

"Show me the birds, please, Neetlebud." The hogwife led the abbess up the passageway to the infirmary. Neetlebud pointed out the large sickbay window.

"See? All those black birds are always flying about or perching in those oak branches."

Song peered out the window at the black birds. They cawed mightily and flew about, pecking at each other and wheeling high above the Abbey. An especially large fowl seemed to be the center bird, and always pecked the others in a berating way.

"That looks like an eagle, but it looks much too dark," observed Song. Neetlebud joined Song at the window and looked out.

"Yes, I never really noticed that big fellow before. I suppose it could be an eagle." They both looked at each other, their eyes widening, and they let out a gasp, remembering the attack on a certain dibbun.

"Dweemo!"

Juniper sat by herself, watching Clemm and Alec make stew over a cooking fire. She stared at the scars and imprints on her wrists, remembering the bonds that cut the hide when she was younger. Her thoughts wandered to her father and mother, long gone, but still imprinted in her memory. She had not spent much time with them, except for the short time as a babe before her capture, and the short time after her rescue. Her thoughts were interrupted, though, when Erwin made her scouting report.

"I've got some good news and bad news, Juniper," she said.

"Well, let's have the bad news first," the squirrel said, trying to put on her brave face.

"The bad news is that Vandar traveled through here a few days ago, so he's still a ways ahead of us. But the good news is, I found this lovely being." She looked up into a nearby tree and signaled to a creature in its branches. Juniper smiled and stood up as the Wandering White Dappo scurried down and nodded to Erwin.

"Name's Dappo, one of the southern Wandering Whites," she said briskly. She looked at Juniper studiously, then a smile brightened her face.

"Strike me! You're Juniper, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Deeply honored to meet you. This is great news for your brother."

"Birchbark? Where is he?"

"He was posted further south, but he and the rest of the southern Whites have been summoned north. That's where Vandar will be going, you see."

"Of course."

Dappo sat on the ground and accepted a bowl of stew from Clemm after introducing herself. "Let me start at the beginning," she said between sips. "This last autumn, our scouts picked up Vandar's trail, studied the camp, learnt about Vandar wanting to come back and wipe us out. So this winter, we've been pulling our numbers, knowing we'll need to stand and fight. We've chosen waiting until Vandar gets farthest north, since that's where most of our numbers live, and that's where his troops will be most challenged. Your brother's been so positive during this time, Juniper, because he's had visions and dreams, saying you're returning. It's all so exciting, ain't it?" She finished off her stew and handed her bowl to Alec.

"How many Wandering Whites are there to fight, Dappo?" asked Juniper anxiously.

Dappo's smile faded. "Not many, I must say. Probably not more than three score, and that includes old and young ones."

"I've heard Vandar has ten score vermin in his forces," Juniper muttered. "We simply need more." She sat and thought quietly for a while. "Dappo, do you see much of the Guosinom hereabouts?"

"The Guosinom? Sure, but they've become rather stubborn and argumentative these days; you'll never get them to join with us."

"Excuse me, but what is the Guosinom?" asked Clemm.

"The Guerilla Union Of Shrews In Northern Mossflower," replied Dappo. "They're fierce warriors, the lot of them."

"Can we at least see if they'll help us?" asked Erwin.

Dappo looked at their expectant faces, and finally relented. "Alright, you can try. But don't expect much."

"We'll expect nothing, and therefore be even more glad when they agree to come with us," said Juniper with a confident smirk.

Dappo understood Juniper's meaning. "Aye, it'll will be such a surprise when they do just as we ask."

The other three did not quite understand the squirrels, but felt that the northern natives would handle the situation well.


	15. the Guosinom

With his inky black plumage, deep crimson eyes, and sharp yellow beak and talons, Lord Krocta presented a fearsome sight. He was possibly the only black eagle in all of Mossflower history, and through his fearsome image and intimidating ways, had amassed an air force of various crows, magpies, ravens, and other nasty birds. The eagle now perched in the bare branches of an oak outside of Redwall, surveying the great fortress. How great the large building would be for him, to shelter himself and his forces from the bitter winter days.

Krocta looked over and saw his two right wings, the crows Klazna and Ordim, wing up to his side.

"My Lord, the scouts have reported that the inhabitants are becoming suspicious," said Klazna, nearly reading her master's mind. "The creatures venture less and less outside their buildings, and when they do, they run quickly, looking alertly about them. Not one creature has ventured past the outer walls in many a day."

Krocta nodded his head thoughtfully, and looked at Ordim for his report.

"Basic woodland animals live in there, my Lord," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I have seen a few otters and hares, but they are the largest animals in there. Besides, these animals are peace-loving; they are not warriors."

"Still, this locale has a reputation of bravery," stated Klazna. "I have heard many stories of small creatures that defeated great forces here."

"But those leaders who led them were foolish," added Ordim, his eyes narrowing. "You have probably heard of General Ironbeak, who tried to invade this same place. He failed, but he was not as fierce or intelligent as you, Lord Krocta."

Klazna was nearing a frenzy. "These creatures, I hear, house a great badger, and have ties to the mountain in the west…" Any further argument was cut off by Krocta spreading his wings and clacking his beak fiercely, his red eyes flashing. The two crows cowered and remained silent.

"We attack tomorrow," Krocta murmured, his voice gravelly. "You know the plan."

The two subordinates nodded and flew off to tell the forces of the strategy.

Far to the north, Vandar sat in his tent, staring at Wenva performing her talents. She threw about the shells, feathers, stones, and sea glass.

"It is still unclear, my Lord," she lied. "You say these dreams plague you every night?"

"Yes, yes," he snapped. "And if I hear of you speaking of these to any of the horde beasts, you'll be sent to Hellgates in your carrying basket."

"Yes, sire, I understand that the army needs no more discouragement." She tossed the shells again, wanting to somehow please her master. "Ah, I now see something. Your fearsome sword, my Lord, is shown slaying many beasts."

"And it is I holding the sword, Wenva?"

"You do hold a sword, my Lord."

"But is it this sword," he tapped the Sword of Martin, "that I hold?"  
Wenva paused a moment. "Yes, my Lord."

Vandar sighed in relief. "Good. You are dismissed, Wenva."

Wenva scurried from the tent and met up with Tirb outside. She crawled into her carrying basket and whispered to the weasel, "That was a close one this time, Tirb. Yes, I saw in my visions Vandar slaying many with that great sword, but only for a short time. It was then seized by another beast, and they wielded it. We must keep silent about this, though; tell no beast!"

Tirb nodded dumbly and strode off, leaving behind the ferret Whitepaw, who hid in the shadows. _So,_ he thought_, Vandar nears destruction._ He slid off to tell his cronies of all he had heard.

Farther south, Dappo led her newfound friends northward and a bit to the west.

"You see, the Guosinom keep to their rivers, mostly, and it's a good thing the rivers up here are too deep to freeze over," she explained. "If we do happen to run into them, it would be great if they could take us up White River, a tributary of River Moss. White River goes northeast; it would let us surpass Vandar and his forces, and carry us toward the Wandering Whites."

"Sounds like a good plan," Juniper said. "But how will we get the Guosinom to take us that far north?"

"You leave that to me, hopefully," Dappo chuckled. "Have you anything to barter with?"

"Not really," Juniper admitted, "except for the food we carry, but we need that."

Dappo nodded agreeably and continued to lead the group.

After a day's march, the five creatures came upon a fortunate sight. Several log boats lay moored in a small cove of the White River. Dappo hailed a group of scruffy-looking shrews on the other side.

"Hello!" she called.

The shrews looked at her and her friends, and fired back argumentative responses.

"Don't be firing off 'ellos to us, squirrel!"

"Aye, shouldn't you be off fighting with the rest of the white pelts?"

"Get yourself and your rag-tag group out of here."  
Dappo cringed a bit and muttered to Juniper, "See? They're much too unfriendly." Her voice reflected resignation, but Juniper would not have it. She had been sent on this mission by Martin, and by all her strength and resources, she would rescue her family and the sword.

"Oi, you little scruffy, impolite, backwater-swilling, ignoramuses of shrews," she roared, "I am Juniper Reguba, daughter of warriors! I demand that you help my friends and I, so that we can destroy Vandar and his forces, or else you can enjoy watching him hunt you down and killing all that you hold dear. Now you get over here in one of your boats and help my friends across, or we shall send our crazed otter over there, and I will not feel pity for you!" Juniper nudged Erwin, who adapted a fierce look and growled terribly.

The shrews on the far bank blanched visibly; the battle-eyed squirrel and tall, enraged otter had not been expected. A taller shrew, obviously their Logalog, came bounding out from behind.

"What's with the bellering out here?" He looked to the opposite bank. He nodded welcome to the travelers, then went about belaboring his shrews. "Get that boat unmoored and help those travelers. Just 'cause we're Guosinom don't mean we're tyrants of the rivers! Move!" Soon, a boat was unmoored, Logalog hopped aboard, and he paddled to the other side. He jumped onto the bank.

"My sincerest 'pologies, marms and sirs," he said. "I've got a few too many renegade shrews in my tribe. Let's help ye across." The travelers sat down in the boat and were paddled across to the other bank. Once on land, Logalog led them to the shrew camp, where they received the best in shrew hospitality, namely good food and a warm fire. Introductions were made, and Logalog became quite interested in helping them.

"We have lived too long being terrified of Vandar," he said. "Many of our shrews wish to leave the north and settle elsewhere, somewhere away from the Wandering Whites." He looked over at Juniper and Dappo. "No offense, marms."

"None taken," Dappo said.

"If we defeat Vandar, the Wandering Whites and all of Mossflower can live in peace again," Juniper said. "Will you help us?"

"Of course," said Logalog. "We shall strike out tomorrow!"

The next morning, the refreshed travelers traveled north with all of the Guosinom warriors. Juniper, Erwin, and Alec sat in one boat, and Dappo and Clemm sat in another. They wrapped themselves in special waterproof shrew blankets, to keep out the cold wind and spray of the rushing water. The shrews paddled fast and hard, keeping the boats skimming down the river to the north.

Two days passed, and they still traveled onwards. On the second night, Logalog signaled to stow paddles. The shrews obeyed, and huddled down in the boats for the night, with one shrew on each boat keeping watch. Juniper's eyelids drooped, and she was about to fall asleep, when Erwin whispered in her ear, "Look!"

The land past the eastern bank flickered with the flames of camp fires. "Vandar's army," Juniper said aloud. They had now gained ground, and would soon pass them. Juniper's heart lightened. Two score of shrew warriors were coming to her brother's aid, and the element of surprise would come greatly into play.

Juniper stayed awake a while longer, and watched the river curve slightly to the east. She eventually fell asleep, and did not witness the sun rise over the horizon, illuminating the home of her mother's family: The far northlands.


	16. The escape!

-1 "Okay, so here's the plan then," began Hoffy confidently. "We march into that grove, scare the blighters out of their wits, save miz Bankley, and skeedaddle out of there as quickly as we can."

"We just can't march in there, Hoffy," objected Sareen. "You can't think those vermin will be scared of a young hare, a small mouse, and a hedgehog."

"You're right there, Sareen," agreed Hoffy. "Therefore, we must disguise ourselves."

"Disguise?" inquired Pipsey incredulously.

"Certainly, me gel." Hoffy looked around, and his eyes settled on a nearby stream not completely frozen over. He walked down to it and cupped up some bank mud in his paws. "Blech, it may not be the most pleasant thing in the world, ladies, but we're on a mission! Now, follow my command."

In the pine grove, Bankley sat surrounded by vermin guards. A tough-looking rat crouched in front of her and continued his interrogation.

"Now, wot's yore business, stream dog?" he asked in a raspy voice.

Bankley remained silent, not wanting to betray the three young ones in her charge. She only glared at the rat, trying not to be intimidated by the malicious vermin.

"She ain't talkin', chief," commented a stoat.

"Well, get her to talk somehow," he snarled. He turned and leaned in, his face a hairsbreadth from Bankley. "Yore from Redwall, ain'tcha?"  
Bankley continued to glare at him, her eyelids never flickering. She shot out with a ferocious bark and bit the rat on the side of his face.

The other vermin tackled from Bankley as the rat's paw covered the wound. He was about to draw his rusty rapier and take vengeance on the offending otter, when suddenly, a blood-curdling whistle pierced the air.

"Whhhhheeeeeoeooooeeeee!" came the voice. The vermin all looked about, their faces worried. They all stared as, at one end of the camp, a fearsome creature, covered in a sickening ooze and bearing a flaming branch trod towards them. It proclaimed in a deep, peculiar voice, "I am Eefoh, Lord of Winter's Bitter Winds! You must flee this grove to save yourselves from the power of Eefoh!"

"Chief!" squeaked a weasel to the rat. "What do we do?"

The rat strode boldly forward. "You don't scare me, spirit. We're the strongest band of vermin around, and nothing's going to move us hence!"

"Then I demand a sacrifice!" bellowed the oozing creature, "or, you shall all end up like this!" The figure reached behind a picked up the small mouse maid Sareen, partially covered in ooze, her eyes terrifyingly rolled back in their sockets, her tongue lolling from her mouth.

"A sacrifice, eh?" asked the rat, with a slight tremble in his voice. He looked to the nearby weasel. "Bring that otter over here." The weasel nodded and shakily ran to the otter. He hauled Bankley to her paws, and marched her over to the rat.

"Will you take this beast here?" asked the rat, pushing Bankley forward.

"A stream dog?" laughed the creature. "Well, I suppose this will do. But I suggest that to prevent my appearing to you again, go eastward, never north! Never north!" At that, the creature grabbed Bankley, doused the branch in a snow bank and fled from the grove, and the eerie whistle was heard again.

"Whhhhheeeeeoeooooeeeee!"

Hoffy, Bankley, and Sareen ran into the night as fast as they could, away from the vermin camp. When they were out of breath, they collapsed in a small cavern. Hoffy cut the bonds on Bankley's front paws, and Sareen helped Hoffy clean the muck off his body.

"I say, great show, Hoffy, and you too, Sareen," said Bankley gratefully. "But where's Pipsey?"

"I'm here!" called the hog maid as she entered the small cavern. "I was separated from you; had to scream into a fallen hollow log, you see."

"Ah, you were that noise," Bankley surmised. She smiled at Hoffy; his ears had been welded by mud into a single head spike, shiny pebbles covered his face, dead weeds hung from his arms, and all manner of branches stuck out at odd angles. "Strike me, I've never seen a scarier, er, what did you say you was?"

"Eefoh, you see, that's 'Hoffy' backwards, Lord of Winter's Bitter Winds. And Sareen there, she's my latest victim."

"Almost, Hoffy; I'm about to freeze from this cold muck!" said the mouse between chattering teeth. Bankley and Pipsey put a small fire together and arranged a meal from Pipsey's provisions. Hoffy and Sareen stood by the fire, letting the frozen mud melt off, and gratefully ate their food.

"I must say, I'm rather proud of you for comin' up with such a plan," Bankley admitted. "I'm sure all of Redwall will treat you like heroes when we return."

The three young ones all exchanged smiles.

A Council of Elders had been called in Cavern Hole. Abbess Song, Dann, Skipper, Deesum, Nettlebud, Asha Foremole, Dobbin, Ventri and Natasha Longlegg, Hollyhock, Poppleleaf, and Sister Sloey sat around a table. Song stood to address the issue of the evening.

"As many of you have seen, there seem to be quite a few birds congregating outside of our Abbey. Now, normally, I wouldn't be worried, but these birds are not wrens or sparrows or robins. These are ravens, rooks, crows, and such like, and I have even seen what I must say without a doubt is a pitch-black eagle. Now, Dobbin, you say you found something in the Abbey records about large birds invading the Abbey before?"

"Yes, Abbess," said the shrew. "I found a record of magpies and crows attacking the abbey in the time of Abbot Mordalfus and the Warrior Matthias. They didn't succeed, of course, but they did manage to take over the attics for some time, tore up the Tapestry a bit, and even took some creatures as hostages!"

"Oh, if only Cregga were here!" cried out Poppleleaf sadly. "She'd know what to do."

"Well, Cregga, I'm sure, would appreciate us figuring out what to do by ourselves," Hollyhock stated. She did secretly wish, though, that instead of visiting Lord Russano at Salamandastron, Cregga was at Redwall. The badger definitely would know what to do.

"An ounce of prevention is a pound of cure, Abbess," stated Ventri. "I suggest no one leaving the Abbey unless approved by you, and that no one should go outside by themselves."

"And though they may not like it," added Deesum, eyeing the sleeping Dweemo on Asha's lap, "I say the Dibbuns _must_ stay inside."

"Of course, Deesum," said Song. "Any other ideas?"

"I say lock up the wall gates every night," said Dann, "and make sure all the entrances in and out of the Abbey are carefully monitored."

"And we should go up in the attics and make sure there are no possible entrances up there," said Nettlebud.

"Burr, whoi not take down yonder Tapestry, just for safe-keepings?"

"Excellent idea, Foremole," said Song. "Yes, I say we commence on these projects tomorrow. Right now, I suggest we all get a good night's sleep."

The Abbess' suggestion was happily met. The Elders all stood from their chairs and retired to their dormitories. Asha walked through Great Hall and stopped at the depiction of Martin the Warrior.

"Martin, please be with Clemm; let him help Juniper however he can," Asha whispered. "And please be with those three young ones and Bankley. I'm scared the Abbey may be in jeopardy, and I want my little Dweemo to not be harmed again." She held the sleeping Dibbun closer to her, then walked off to her room, a small tear forming in her eye.

"Sire, sire!" Wenva scurried up to Vandar as dawn broke. "I have urgent news."

The fox looked down doubtfully at the witch-rat. "And what news is that?"

"During the night, sire, Whitepaw the ferret and a bunch of his followers abandoned camp. They're nowhere to be seen!"

"Abandoned the camp, eh?" Vandar looked off to the White River flowing past, and barely made out vermin tracks on the other side. "Well, we shall not worry about them now," he decided. "Our objective is to reach the far northlands, and today, we shall do just that." Vandar went about the troops, shouting and cursing them. "Come on, you lazy bottom-feeders. We've got some squirrels to annihilate!" Wenva took her position in the carrying basket on Tirb's back.

"Remember, Tirb," she whispered to the weasel, "our time is coming. Always be alert for when I say to leave."

"Yes, I will." Tirb began to march north with the rest of the vermin. "Why did Whitepaw leave?"

"I'm not sure, Tirb. But from now on, trust no beast except me, understand?"

The weasel pondered this for a minute, then replied, "Yes."


End file.
